


we're all stories in the end

by vestigial



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Clara Oswin Oswald - Freeform, F/M, Weeping Angels - Freeform, doctor who - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-15
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vestigial/pseuds/vestigial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one."</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're all stories in the end

**Author's Note:**

> ok so this is my first fan fiction so i hope it doesn't suck and yes, this is an ElevenxClara :)

"Stop doing that look," he tells her.

She furrows her eyebrows, leaning against the metal railings of the TARDIS with her brown hair neatly tucked in a brown bun. The patterned red dress with a black collar fits her perfectly. She's confused, not understanding what he means. "What look? I'm not doing a look." She pulls her lips up in a cheesy grin. "Except this look. God this look is cheesy what am I doing?" she drops it.

"Look at that look. Look at it! That one where your eyes twinkle and you just look so mischievous and devilish," he replies, beginning to get exasperated, prodding at her face and taking it in his hands. "Clara. That look!"

Clara frowns. "Well, Doctor, I can't see it, can I? It's not bloody well possible to look at your own face without looking at a mirror or an item that reflects or something."

The Doctor points to a mirror behind her which was neatly placed next to a suitcase and hanger. "Funny, I never noticed that mirror," Clara says before going up to it to see her face. "That's my face. No look on it."

"Yes. I mean no. I mean Yes. No. No. There is a look on it! Look closer," he presses her face closer to the mirror until her nose was an inch away from touching the mirror.

She looks closer, not noticing anything at first. Then everything comes into view gradually. Her eyes are more sparkly and full of excitement than usual. Diluted pupils and a faint blush at her cheek. Her lips are curved up in a mischievous smirk which she didn't realize were in. She was  _definitely_  not looking like she usually did. But there was something inside her that she couldn't describe. "I guess you could say that I was looking a tad bit different?"

“A tad bit different. Funny, Clara. There’s something about your look that is different and I can’t work it out, which frustrates me even more so I guess I’m not moving until I find out what is wrong with you.” His eyes widen and he presses his palm against her cheek. “Are you sick or dying? Do you feel pain?”

She resists the urge to laugh at his confused and concerned face. “Totally, Doctor, I think I’m about to pass out,” she fake wavers and then steadies herself, laughing at his sulking look. 

“I believed you for a second,” he mutters. “Now – where are we going next? Tea with the queen? She always invites me to tea, but I never really have time for it, do I? Actually, scratch that out. How about Mercy? No not the planet the town in America. I’d like to see how they’re getting on. The doctor; he sacrificed himself. Did the right thing. He showed true honor at the end. I'm blabbing again, aren't I? You should really stop me the next time I start blabbing I can never shut up. It's like I have verbal diarrhea. Back to what I asked. Where are we going next?"

“Well, Chin boy, how about you show me the star-" 

A familiar whooshing noise cut Clara off from the rest of her sentence, followed by a whirring racket. For the first time,  the Doctor actually looks confused and completely baffled. “Get down!” Are the only words that came out of his mouth. Sparks fly from different angles, landing dangerously on the floor with a faint hiss.

"Where are we going?" She yells over the din. "I don't like it!"

The TARDIS is flying out of control, whizzing and twirling into orbit like it doesn't know where to go first. "This has never happened before," the Doctor talks to himself nervously and looks over to Clara. "She's going somewhere, and even I don't know where. But this place looks oddly familiar, just saying."

Clara clutches on to the railings, terrified. Her legs swing back and forth through the gaps. "Can't you make it stop?" She shouts.

"Nope!" 

Suddenly, it lurches forwards and slams down, shocking the couple. The wooden doors open by themselves and the Doctor's eyes widen as he tries to get the machine to turn on again. "No. No. No. No. Anything. Anywhere but this place. Clara - we're getting out of here." There's no response and he turns around. "Clara?"

She's already outside, curious to see what this place is without realizing the dangers and the things that lurk deep inside this place. "Clara. Get back in."

Clara's frozen and staring at a familiar gravestone, her fingers delicately resting on the smooth concrete. Silence is hung in the air and she turns to the doctor. “Rory and Amelia Williams. They were your companions before I came here, weren’t they? How did they die?” She orders the doctor to tell her but all he does is stare at his feet uneasily. “Doctor. Tell me.”

She feels something shift behind her and twirls around, gasping and leaning against the headstone.

“Clara!”

She hears the faint sound of the Doctor’s voice. “Don’t blink. Don’t turn around – don’t blink. Get away from it but don’t break eye contact,” his instructions are clear and sharp. His tone is full of fear, as if he doesn’t know what to do.

The weeping angel is looming over her, mouth wide open with sharp teeth pointing out in a warning. Clara shifts to the left, not breaking her gaze from the angel. Her footsteps are quick and one wrong move could mean certain death.

When she’s far enough, she looks down on a gravestone and turns deathly pale. “Clara?” The doctor’s calling her, but she’s looking at the gravestone.

_Clara Oswin Oswald_

_Died age twenty-seven._

_Cause of Death; unknown._

_You will forever be in our hearts._

“That’s my grave,” she says, shocked and the Doctor pushes his palms against his face and strokes his imaginary beard. “And I’m twenty seven. They never find out how I died – but it’s this, isn’t it? This is when I die. For real.”

“Just walk back into the TARDIS, Clara, now,” his voice wavers. "Stop it. Just walk in."

She's beginning to cry while tears blur her vision. "I can't. I'm supposed to die here - we can't change a marked place in history like you change your bowtie," she laughs a little.

"Don't do it. Don't turn around."

"But we all know I was going to have to die one day, right? So here I am. Clara Oswin Oswald - human, the impossible girl, governess in victorian times. The girl who fought the daleks. The superhero nanny and the girl who fought the cybermen. Souffle girl. I know you're crying. I can feel sadness radiating off you so stop being sad, it doesn't match with your bowtie or that chin and hair," she turns around and the Doctor can see that she's crying. "Goodbye."

Then she's gone.

Her image wavers, disappearing into mist and atoms and at the same time, the angel disappears, merely turning back into a statue. Nothing's happening. Silence is thick in the air again, but there's a change in the atmosphere.

The Doctor. The man who lost Clara Oswin Oswald the same way he lost Amelia Pond and Rory Williams.

**Author's Note:**

> "We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one."
> 
> i'm sorry i had to end my first fan fiction in such a depressing way; i didn't know how else to end it than that. anyways, i hope you like it and i'm sorry if it's terrible.
> 
> \- Jessalyn xoxo


End file.
